What Do You Mean By 'Defeat?
by Miss Whiskers
Summary: Sometimes, the worst mistake you can make is to cheat in a very important game of chess. The second worst thing is inform Dumbledore ten minutes after you were caught cheating at said game... A very odd story about the politically correct term 'defeat'.
1. Chess, Hotdogs, and Plots, Oh My!

_**What Do You Mean by 'Defeat'?**_

A/N: I'm sorry, but I REALLY can't concentrate on AIAW, so I'm just coming up with a bunch of new stories. I'm trying to get the next chapter done, but... Oh well, happy Thanksgiving!

Disclaimer:

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the Hogwarts kitchens, slurping Butterbeer and naming the turkeys.

"This one," Ron firmly declared, pointing to a currently roasting bird, "is Thomas."

"What do have against Dean?" Hermione asked. "I thought you were friends."

"He dated Ginny," Ron growled in reply," so he must DIE!"

"In that case," Hermione said, " this is... Trelawney!"

The three grinned evilly and took great joy in pretending to stab it.

Miss Whiskers tripped through the portrait hole, and pointed at a particularly fat turkey. "That one is Tom Riddle."

The three Gryffindors turned and looked at Miss Whiskers with disdain.

"Who invited you?" Harry asked rudely. "Only characters in JK Rowling's books and she herself can name turkeys."

"Oh," Miss Whiskers answered with a downtrodden expression. "Fine, then. I'll just make you all look like idiots in my fanfics."

Hermione rushed to block the exit.

"You can name a bloody turkey!" She declared. "Just don't pair me with Ron!"

"Hey!" Came the indignant reply from the redhead.

"Too late," Miss Whiskers grinned, magicing a label around the turkey's neck. "and there's nothing you can do about it."

The next day found Hermione reading a book about how to hack into internet sites, a vein pulsing in her forehead.

**And on to the story!**

Lord Voldemort, the leader of the Death Eaters and current holder of the title 'Britain's Most Wanted', was easily amused.

Despite his protestations and apparent hatred of the Muggle world, he had a stash of the most popular gadgets in current Muggle culture.

He was currently examining an object, the likes of which he had never seen before. It was perfectly rounded and made without error, something rare in the magical world, with its singly-made implements and widgets. It seemed to be made of some pliable silver metal, a wire of sorts that curved widely but compactly. Unable to figure out the object's true job, he amused himself by waving it across the floor, watching as it spread out with ripples moving along its length.

He was so deeply enthralled that when a Death Eater burst in, his reaction time was seriously cut down. The Dark Lord hurried to sweep the gizmo out of sight, but in his haste knocked it out a nearby open door, where it rolled across the hallway and disappeared down the flight of stairs.

Voldemort and his minion rushed to peer over the staircase railing to watch as the silver instrument seemed to crawl down to the ground floor, swinging end over end until it halted once on the ground.

Other Death Eaters poked their heads out of doorways to look at the phenomenon, twittering excitedly to those who didn't see.

Amazed at his obviously sentient possession, Voldemort turned to the interrupting Death Eater with less vitriol than he had intended.

"Yes, Robinson? I trust you had a good reason to interrupt my---studies."

The so-named Robinson coughed nervously, deciding not to inform his Master that his name was in fact Crusoe, and handed Voldemort an unopened letter with a distinctly Muggle stamp on it.

Wordlessly shooing his minion away, he put the letter in his pocket before going to collect his mysteriously alive device. He scowled as he saw many of the Death Eaters crowded around it, oohing and aahing.

He bustled down the stairs like an overprotective chicken and pushed them aside. The subordinates squawked petulantly in dismay, and stayed surrounding the unfamiliar gizmo.

Voldemort finally lost his temper. "GET AWAY FROM MY SLINKY!"

Severus Snape, one of the few looking at the huddling group with disdain, snickered softly and asked, "A Slinky, milord?"

Voldemort scowled and glared at the Potions Master. "Yes, Snape, a Slinky. And if I remember correctly, you do own a collection of yo-yos, do you not?"

The usually unflappable Death Eater fell silent in acceptance of a point scored and Voldemort smirked. Scooping up his Slinky, he walked back to his study, wondering what was in the letter that Robinson had given him.

He rarely got Muggle post anymore since killing the mailman.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Harry Potter really didn't know how he kept getting into these situations.

Well, technically, that wasn't true. He knew fully well that sending Voldemort a particularly scathing note of challenge was not the smartest course. The prophecy wasn't all that specific about how to go about defeating Tom Riddle, which could mean anything from killing him to beating him in a thumb wrestle.

Despite the fact that it wasn't a glorious battle as the rest of the Wizarding World would expect, Harry had leaned towards the challenge of thumb war. Ron, acting quite mature and out of character, had said that that idea was the most ridiculous he had ever heard. Hermione had agreed happily with the red head, until Ron finished with the thought that Harry would be horrible at thumb war; Quidditch was a much better choice.

The three had begun arguing quite incessantly, getting Ginny and Neville involved as well, all five having different opinions of the definition of 'defeat'. Luna had finally piped up and suggested that Harry arrange a meeting with Voldemort to get his opinion.

Harry had taken that idea, and sent Voldemort a note detailing a time and place of a meeting, and that no wands should be brought with either side.

Despite having a clear memory as to how he had gotten here, Harry was still having doubts about his sanity as he sat across from his nemesis at a table at the Hanged Man, a pub close to Riddle's ancestral home, yet near a Muggle city and police force.

Harry looked absent-mindedly at the large Grim-like dog beside him, glad to know that Sirius was here. His god-father had blown a gasket at discovering Harry's plan, but had calmed down once he was allowed to be a part of it.

"I didn't know you were bringing company," Voldemort said crossly after catching sight of Padfoot, or 'Snuffles' as he was called in public.

"Snuffles is a dog, Voldemort, grow up."

The Dark wizard sniffed indignantly at that remark, but allowed it. He had, after all, brought his Slinky along, suspecting it had previously undiscovered abilities.

"Yes, well, I believe you arranged this meeting so as to discuss our current situation," Voldemort continued, wondering if he was just imagining the dog's increasingly malignant glare.

"We're enemies," Harry said bluntly, getting straight to the point. "You have tried to kill me on no less than six separate occasions, not mentioning friends or family. I have foiled your plans of immortality and total power four times, not mentioning mocking you or ruining your 'Dark Lord' image. I have recently received news that I am supposed to 'defeat' you. I have come here to ask your opinion as to how you would like to be defeated."

"Wait, wait, wait," Voldemort said, a tiny bit annoyed. "What do you mean, _you're_ supposed to defeat _me_? I have received news that it was the other way around."

"That disagreement aside," Harry continued, not wanting to keep arguing over trivialities like who was supposed to kill who, "one of us must be defeated. I don't know about you, but I don't want to risk my life in some elaborate duel or battle."

Voldemort nodded his agreement. So far the argument made sense, and he personally couldn't disagree.

"Therefore, I am proposing a game of chess."

Voldemort blinked. "You want to decide the outcome of this war in a game of chess?" Mentally he was snickering. He himself wasn't very good at chess, but his spies had informed him that Potter was absolutely deplorable.

Harry nodded. "It's the closest to a battle without actually involving a bunch of people. This way, if I win, there are no more deaths, and if you win, you still have a bunch of living followers. Now, rules..."

"If I win, you can no longer be involved with the war. You will not fight for the opposing side, or otherwise aid them."

"Agreed. If I win, you and your followers will disband, none of them or you to stir up violence or any civil unrest. That includes any acts of aggression towards Muggles, Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, or Light-sided Purebloods."

"Agreed."

The two arch-enemies shook hands and Harry pulled out a chess board, then each Summoned their personal set of chess-men. Apparently, the previous agreement to leave behind their wands had been ignored by both parties.

Padfoot whined apprehensively. Godfather though he was, he was not about to lie about Harry's chess skills. To put it plainly, he would lose against a paper bag.

He pawed at Harry's foot to shoot him a warning look, but Harry didn't respond, just readjusting part of his disguise, a baseball cap.

Looking closer, Padfoot saw a wire running from Harry's ear to his pocket, sort like those . . . malk-wans the bushy-haired girl was always talking about. With those odd Cee Dees and communication things. Straining his hearing, Padfoot's canine ears could pick up the quiet voice of the Weasley boy. "You want to let him go first, Harry, then I'll tell you the first move."

Reassured and satisfied that the end of the war would be favorable now that the Light didn't depend on Harry's chess skills, Padfoot settled down to watch the fateful game, shamelessly chewing on one of Voldemort's prize goat-skin loafers.

Voldemort moved the third pawn from the left side forward two squares. Harry copied him immediately by moving the third pawn from the left side forward two squares. Unnerved by his opponent's sudden and repetitive action, Voldemort nervously moved his right corner pawn forward one square.

Smirking gleefully, Harry moved his left bishop to be next to Voldemort's first pawn on the (from Harry's point of view) right side.

"Checkmate."

Squawking in dismay, Voldemort looked anxiously in the board in dismay. Potter was horrible at chess! He had to be! Squinting suspiciously at the victorious Boy-Who-Lived, the Dark Lord spotted an earplug in his ear. Hissing angrily, Voldemort snatched holding the walkie-talkie victoriously.

Harry pouted, and Voldemort listened in to the walkie-talkie, wondering who Potter got to assist him.

"Hello? Harry, you there, mate? Come on, I want to know if that move worked!"

Voldemort snarled, "I'm afraid not, Weasley. Now that Potter has to forfeit the game, your home will be the first I strike."

He heard muttered curse words in the background, and an unfamiliar voice reached him. "I told you it was a bad idea, Ronald. But you just had to encourage him, didn't you?"

Voldemort handed the walkie-talkie back to Harry, who was grinning suspiciously.

"Well, Potter, seeing as you cheated, rather Slytherin of you, by the way, the game is forfeit to me---"

"Not quite, Tom," Harry said holding out a very familiar walkie-talkie. One that the Dark Lord had just been communicating with.

Voldemort groaned and wondered if now was a good occasion to bang his head against the table, as Harry bothered the Death Eater on the opposite side.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Malfoy. Yes, yes, death threats to you, too. So, you're the resident Death Eater and Chess Master? Heh, how does it feel to be beaten by a Weasley, the current Hogwarts Chess Master?" A slight pause. "Yeah, yeah, I thought you would feel that way. Some of those curses are distinctly Muggle. Where'd you hear them?"

Another short pause, and then Harry returned the walkie-talkie to Voldemort, who took it with ill grace. "I think he hung up on me."

Voldemort sighed and Banished his chess pieces back to his headquarters. "So, now what?"

"Erm, thumb war?"

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, and Luna (who had somehow either confused or bribed the Fat Lady to allow her access to the Gryffindor Common Room) were waiting rather impatiently for Harry to return.

Hermione, trying to immerse herself in _Hogwarts, A History_, eventually gave up and joined Ron in his maddened pacing, muttering inaudibly every once in a while. Ginny was curled up in an armchair near the glowing fire, knitting hats and socks for house-elves, having taken the position of Vice President for SPEW.

Neville, who had earlier in the year claimed a small corner of the Common Room, was currently tucking blankets around his more fragile flora, singing gentle lullabies that echoed softly throughout the room.

Luna was currently chasing Crookshanks, convinced that the cat was a Hurble-Snirtched Pixie in disguise. The fact that Crookshanks had purposely knocked over a bottle of bright blue ink over the usually mild-mannered Ravenclaw's new Batgirl cape did not help his case.

Eventually Hermione and Ginny blew up at the same time.

"That's it!" They both cried in stereo. "Harry should have been back by now!"

"Probably taken captive by Voldemort," Hermione said worryingly.

"Or already killed," Ginny said.

"Or tortured for information and left in a ditch."

"Or being Obliviated and turned into Voldemort's side-kick."

Everyone turned to stare at Luna as that last idea was said, and she stared innocently back as she dragged Crookshanks by the tail behind her.

"Sit. Stay," she told the cat, who ran off as soon as released. Then she spoke to the room at large, while tying the cape around her neck, "We could always initiate a ritual of the Flamborty-Gabbits."

Ron stood and suggested warily, "We could always tell Dumbledore."

"That what?" Neville asked incredulously. "That Harry went insane, and challenged Voldemort to a game of chess that would decide the fateful battle between light and dark, which you helped him cheat at, and the world is going to go down in a fiery blaze as Harry is forced to watch from the sidelines, and quite possibly moving to Mozambique and getting a job as a plumber? Oh, what the heck. We might as well."

Muttering their agreement while glancing rather nervously at Neville, they marched off to inform the Headmaster of Hogwarts that the fated Hero for the Light had cheated in a very important game of chess.

They ran out of Gryffindor Tower like a pack of hyper and confused hyenas, not stopping as they passed curious groups of students. Luckily not running across any teachers on the way to Dumbledore's office, they paused upon reaching the gargoyle.

"Does anyone know the password?" Hermione asked, biting her lip in nervousness, never having gone to the Headmaster's office before.

"I don't know, Harry says that it's usually a kind of candy," Ron answered. "I guess we should just start listing them all."

Ginny took a deep breath before anyone could say another word. "Fizzing Whizbees, Peppermint Humbugs, lemon drops, Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Patties, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills, Licorice Wands, Blood Pops, Acid Pops, Cockroach Cluster, Hershey's, Reece's, M&Ms, Snickers, Smarties, Three Musketeers."

Ginny took another deep breath as her face had started turning blue. Seeing that his sister still had more candy names to go through, Ron hastily covered her mouth with his hand.

"Er, Ginny," he started hesitantly as Ginny glared at him. "The password was Fizzing Whizbees."

He removed his hand and the red-headed girl looked at the open staircase in consternation. "Oh. Heh, my mistake."

Now that that obstacle was out of their way, the five resumed their helter-skelter running, all crowding around the mahogany door and pounding on it.

The door immediately opened as Severus Snape glared down at them harshly. Not expecting the door to open so soon, Neville and Ron tripped and tumbled into the office, almost bowling Snape over in the process.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore greeted from behind his desk, wondering what the six, as he knew that what two had done, all had assisted in, could have gotten into now. "I assume the castle is still in one piece?"

The three girls joined the now standing two. "The castle is not the problem, Professor," Ginny said wryly. "It's who is not in the castle that is the problem."

Not even missing a beat, Dumbledore sighed. "Where did Harry go now?"

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

As it turned out, there were no competition-style rules for thumb war, leading to a strong argument.

"It's thumb war, Voldemort! Why do you have to make it so difficult?"

"It's a filthy Muggle game, Potter, and---"

"Well, you have a 'filthy Muggle' father, and are half 'filthy Muggle' yourself! Stop whining!"

Voldemort glared silently at his surprisingly scolding arch-enemy. "You sound like someone's mother, Potter. That picture is quite disturbing."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Exploding Snap?"

"No."

"Checkers?"

"Not a chance."

"Twister?"

"What game could possible involve weather and tornadoes? No."

"Good gods, man! Just pick a game!"

"Pin the Avada Kedavra on Dumbledore?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay!"

"No."

"Pie-eating contest?" Harry tried desperately, and got a woof of amusement and approval from Padfoot.

"Make it hot dogs and you have yourself a deal, Potter."

Harry looked nervously at the snake-like man. "Hot dogs? You've foresworn Muggles, and still like hot dogs?"

"Yes," Voldemort said with a glare. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope," Harry hastily replied, acting mock innocent. "Not a problem at all. But you're buying."

"WHAT? Potter, look at that menu! I'm a Dark Lord, not Bill Gates!"

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Dumbledore prided himself on always being completely calm, no matter what the situation. He was renowned for keeping his cool, so the other occupants of his office could hardly be blamed for their initial fright as Dumbledore exploded.

"HE DID WHAT?" Albus bellowed, making Hermione squeak in mortal terror and hide behind Ron. "You mean to tell me that Harry challenged Tom Riddle to a chess game which would decide the fate of life as we know it, and Harry can't play chess worth a box of rocks?"

Hermione nodded before ducking her head behind Ron once more.

Albus, trying to rein in his temper, turned to Snape. "My apologies for ever doubting you, Severus. Harry Potter is indeed a reckless idiotic Gryffindor."

Snape waxed joyful at that statement, and preened himself, ignoring the baleful glares from the five students.

"Now," Dumbledore said, giving up on being calm, and turning to Ron. "What happened after you lost communication with Harry?"

Ron snickered. "It turned out that You-Know-Who was cheating as well; he was in communication with Lucius Malfoy. So they were trying to come up with another contest."

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temples and sighing despair. "What did the village idiots agree to?"

Here Ron grinned, something that boded no good for the more sensible people in the room. "A hotdog-eating contest."

Neville and Ginny snickered, not having heard that part of the conversation. Hermione glared at her classmates, while Luna seemed to be talking to Fawkes.

The poor phoenix had a look of utter confusion while studying the blonde Ravenclaw. Deciding that, magically immortal or no, he wasn't safe near her, flew up in a flurry of feathers and hid behind Dumbledore. It's thin, reedy song could be easily translated as a plea for mercy and help.

Pouting, Luna stepped away from the perch and started a staring contest with a mirror reflection of herself, completely ignoring the goings-on of everyone else.

"A 'hot-dog' contest," Dumbledore repeated slowly, as if not sure he had heard correctly. Turning around and muttering under his breath, Dumbledore said, "I teach him, let him get away with fighting Dark Lords in the castle, believe him when he said that water-guns were just toys and not part of an ambush against Draco Malfoy, and what does he do? I shudder to think what will happen next."

The headmaster shook his head in dismay and cast a Sonorus charm. "ATTENTION HOGWARTS' STUDENTS! THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT SHALL SHORTLY BE OVER! PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS AND/OR ANY BOMB SHELTERS PREVIOUSLY PREPARED. MINERVA MCGONAGALL IS WANTED IN MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY! THANK YOU, THAT WILL BE ALL."

Albus muttered 'Quietus' and turned to face the five students. "Okay, whose idea was this?"

"Not to worry," Ron began calmingly, avoiding having to answer that question. "Harry and I thought up a plan for every situation. Anything that could happen will work to our advantage."

Hermione asked pointedly, "Did you consider the possibility that Voldemort might just hit Harry with the Killing Curse?"

"Erm..."

Hermione's hair seemed to deflate with despair. "We're screwed."

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Harry led the way to a dodgy-looking hotdog cart. The apparent owner glowered at him for interrupting his solitaire game but put down his cards nonetheless.

"What 'cha want?"

"My friend and I have a bet to settle, Leo," Harry said, and the man grinned wickedly.

"Your friend, eh? Not likely, not likely, but hey? Who'mi to complain? You're here for da contest, yes? So sit, sit," Leo waved towards a nearby table. Voldemort, having changed his appearance so as to not attract attention, looked like his seventeen-year-old echo. The two sat across from each other as Leo started rapidly cooking hot-dogs and tossing them onto a plate.

Locals started muttering to each other and beckoning others to come watch, and two people came boldly forward.

"I'm judge for him," a waitress from a restaurant across the street said, pointing at Harry. He couldn't help but think she looked familiar.

The second person, a greasy, rotund man (who looked rather like a chef who cooked gristly meat from said restaurant, in Harry's opinion) pointed at Voldemort. "Then I'll judge him."

Voldemort looked at Harry nervously, who just smirked, and jumped as a steaming plate slammed down in front of him.

"Alrighty, now," Leo said officially. "You each have three minutes and thirty seconds to eat as many hot-dogs as possible. Your judges will be counting for you. Comprenden?"

"Sí," Harry answered readily in response, glaring maliciously at Voldemort. The Dark wizard gulped and wondered what he had gotten himself into. His Slytherin intelligence obviously had blundered here; taking in Potter's scrawny form, he hadn't reckoned a food contest to be much of a challenge. Now, however he had his doubts.

The crowd watched the two opponents with narrowed eyes, and almost as a single being, picked the Dark wizard out as the weaker entity.

Leo also picked up on that particular vibe, and called out, "30 on Harry."

A couple people in the crowd smiled vindictively and wrote down the amount, as others called out various other bets. Once everything was settled down, Leo smirked and simply said, "Begin."

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Minerva McGonagall made her way up the revolving staircase with not a little trepidation. The war with Voldemort had escalated, and if Albus was issuing such an order, it boded no good.

Filled with such despairing thoughts, she blinked in shock at the five students in the office. Narrowing her eyes, she immediately discounted the Weasleys as heraldry to an emergency: it wasn't unusual for one or more to have set up camp in the Headmaster's office, especially if the Weasley twins had anything to do with it. It was also believable that Miss Lovegood had merely gotten lost and for Mr. Longbottom to be lobbying for temporary claim of 'his' corner of the Gryffindor common room, as people had often accidentally stepped on or otherwise mutilated his beloved plants.

No, what was suspicious was Miss Granger's presence. The girl was never in trouble, at least not without the help of Mr. Weasley and... Realization struck.

"What did you six do now?" She snapped, including the not-present ring-leader, in no mood for the troubles that followed the six-pack of students that were, quite realistically, referred to as a hangover by all of the staff; Miss Lovegood in particular was considered to be made with an overdose of pure alcohol, followed by a shot of epinephrine.

"See?" Snape said smugly. "Minerva also knows that Potter is always the cause of trouble. Always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, challenging Dark Lords to thumb wars---"

"Alright, Severus," Dumbledore said tiredly. "You proved your point. Is it really necessary to rub it in?"

"Yes," the Potions professor declared, while Minerva and the five students all said, "Apparently."

Trying to get the meeting back on track, Dumbledore got right to the point without even offering the Deputy Headmistress a lemon drop. "Harry challenged Tom to a chess game."

"WHAT?" Minerva squawked. "But Harry plays chess worse than Mr. Malfoy plays Quidditch!"

That comment got stifled snickers from all of the Gryffindors, while Snape looked like he had accidentally swallowed a salt lick.

"Unfortunately," Albus said lightly, trying to distract Severus, who looked like he wanted to beat Harry's record of most destruction done to his office, "Harry's attempts to do just that were foiled."

"What?" she said in confusion. "You mean Harry _didn't_ try to lose the game on purpose?"

"Blasted woman!" Snape yelled, losing his usual ice-like presence. "Draco does not try to lose Quidditch games!"

"That's true," Ron interrupted slyly. "Malfoy just can't play worth a damn."

"A hundred points from Gryffindor! A hundred thousand points from Gryffindor!" Snape bellowed, then calmed down as a vein started pulsing in his forehead. "What the Headmaster meant was---"

"The Headmaster means that Malfoy always tries to cheat to hide his deplorable skills and is always caught," Hermione said snarkily, daring Snape to prove her wrong. "And that Harry did the same thing."

Albus sighed as the situation deteriorated. That record might be beaten indeed.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Padfoot watched the scene closely, trying to keep his canine mind from wanting to devour all the hotdogs within the near vicinity. Leo, apparently realizing what the dog was after, idly tossed one at him while not removing his eyes from the competition.

Harry was half a hotdog ahead of Voldemort and his supporters waxed jubilant as the first minute passed, offering more and more ridiculous odds.

Tom Riddle, already beginning to despise the taste of the not-quite-meats tubes, wondered why he even agreed to this as he tried to keep up with the pace set by the Boy-Who-Lived. Suddenly thinking of a decidedly Gryffindor idea, Voldemort dumped a nearby bottle of ketchup all over his nemesis's plate, knowing that the supposed savior of the Wizarding World hated any and all forms of tomato.

'Ah, the benefits of a mind-to-mind connection with enemies,' Voldemort thought contentedly as Harry scowled and shuddered at the goopy, red mass in front of him.

And then Harry Potter did something completely unexpected, while an almost unnoticed crackle filled the immediate area.

He lifted up the plate of hotdogs, ketchup included, and threw it in Voldemort's shocked face. Harry calmly ignored the sputtering Dark Wizard and scooped up a couple (undamaged, in Harry's opinion) hotdogs and calmly ate them.

Voldemort hurriedly wiped the stinging ketchup from his eyes and hissed at the Boy-Who-Lived, who rolled his eyes and continued stuffing hotdogs into his mouth. Desperately grabbing hotdogs, Voldemort watched the dwindling time as he and his mortal enemy ate hotdogs for ultimate control of the world's future.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Lucius Malfoy paced angrily around the Headquarters of the Death Eaters, currently yelling and barking orders to ones lower on the food chain.

"We need to find the Lord's location, immediately," the usually calm aristocrat all but screamed. "I will not lose to a mere Weasley, and we will make sure that Lord Voldemort will not lose to a mere Potter!"

A low-ranking recruit rushed into the room. "We have a fixation on the Dark Lord's location. A town called Little Hangleton---"

"Little Hangleton? We're in Little Hangleton, you idiot! You think I wouldn't have known if the Dark Lord was close by?"

The new recruit, being somewhat intelligent and knowing the urban legend about blondes was fact, merely pulled a miniature disco-ball out of his pocket. He unshrunk it and waved it in front of Voldemort's second-in-command's face.

"Ooh, sparkly," Malfoy immediately cut short his rant, his eyes following the twinkling object swinging before him. "Psychedelic!"

The new recruit at this moment began to realize that joining a group of easily-distracted, Dark-Ages, aristocratic pure bloods wasn't the smartest move. However, after incapacitating Malfoy with the alluring disco ball, proceeded to gather a handful of Death Eaters with IQ at least equal to their age, and ran to go save the Dark Lord from whatever situation he had gotten himself into this time.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

"_As the education of the One comes to a close, the battle of Light against Dark will draw to a head...With Stupidity on one side and Idiocy on the battlefield of the other, the Fate of the World will occur today...Only the Dark Lord and the Boy-Who-Lived can determine this war, with neither help nor aid from their supporters...As the education of the One comes to a close..."_

Professor Sybil Trelawney suddenly woke, and, not noticing any hint of her previous prophecy, proceeded to sell her Weinerschnitzyl stocks at rock-bottom prices, not foreseeing that they would soon rise on the stock market.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Neville shared a plotting glance with Ginny, who nodded her head and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her book bag, setting them on the tip of her nose. She pressed a button on the side of the lens, but groaned as the glasses fizzled and steam began to pour out of them.

"Dang it!" Neville muttered, his sunglasses having done the same thing. Hermione looked suspiciously at them, her eyes darting back and forth between the pairs of sunglasses and the two guilty-looking students.

"You were trying to erase our memories!" The bookworm shrieked, attracting the attention of everyone us.

"We're weren't trying to erase your memories, Hermione, just Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall, because there was nothing they could do anyway, and this way we could have left and tried to find Harry. No, no! We weren't' going to erase yours!"

Neville tried to run but was too late as the normally unathletic girl took a running jump at him and wrestled him to the ground, trying to snatch the glasses out of his hand.

"I invented those bloody glasses!" Hermione yelled. "And here you are trying to use them against two professors!"

"3," Snape cut in harshly, getting the feeling that the Gryffindor had left him out rather than either of the other two. And he was right.

"You don't count, Snape," the girl hissed, jabbing her knee into Neville's stomach and finally getting the sunglasses. "You're just a snarky irremovable part of the castle that we all have to survive."

"Well," Dumbledore interrupted, since he knew that if it came down to violence, Hermione Granger would definitely win, especially after seeing that show with Neville just now, "perhaps we can try to find where Harry is, and drag him kicking and screaming back to the castle before he does anything the rest of us will regret. Now, do you know where he is?"

"Erm.."

"Uhh..."

"Well,..."

"Not exactly, per se..."

"Little Hangleton."

They all turned to Luna as one, who shrugged at them, happy to have won the staring contest against the mirror.

"He's in Little Hangleton, of course. Where did you think he would go?"

She watched idly as three adults and four students rushed for the fireplace, practically shoving each other out of their way. Then she reached into her pocket and grabbed a cell phone.

"You've got incoming, Harry," she muttered into it and snapped it shut. Seeing that no one else was in the room, the blonde girl quickly ransacked the office, making copies of Dumbledore's valuable books and stealing his dish of lemon drops, Banishing all of it to her dorm room, as Harry had earlier asked her to. Their plan was working, if not smoothly, at least wonderfully.

Making sure there was no sign of her slightly illegal actions, she threw Floo powder into the fireplace and joined the hunt to find Harry Potter and the infamous Dark Lord.

o0/////////\\\\\\\\\\\0o

Harry leaned his head down to better hear his voicemail as he picked up the plate to throw at Voldemort.

"_You've got incoming, Harry_," said the tinny voice he recognized as Luna's, and he mentally pleaded to anyone listening, even the mouse in the Hickory Dickory Dock Clock, that time would run out before anyone arrived.

Alas, fortune was against him, as he saw Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and his friends running towards him from one end of the street, and Death Eaters charging from the other.

"What are you doing, Mr. Potter? I expected better than you merely initiating a hot dog eating contest to fulfill the Prophecy. After all these years of magical training you couldn't think of anything REMOTELY sane?"

Harry rolled his eyes, hearing a Death Eater with a similarly scolding tone address Voldemort.

"Shame on you, milord. All these vows of abolishing Muggles, of having a supreme magical race and I catch you with your life-long enemy eating Muggle TUBES OF MEAT! I expected better!"

The two mortal enemies shared a glance and nodded, Harry throwing a plateful of ketchupy hotdogs at the brigade from Hogwarts, and Voldemort doing the same to the Death Eaters.

"Interference!" Leo called out loudly, neither of the groups that just arrived noticing the crowd of Muggles' presence. "That's it! In all my years of serving hotdogs, I have never seen two groups object so strongly to it! What are Muggles, anyway?"

"Oops," Dumbledore said softly, and Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Oh honestly, give me those!" She wrenched the sunglasses out of Ginny's unresisting hand, and faced the group of Muggles. "Say cheese!"

There was a flash of blinding light before anyone could say anything at all, and after Hermione took the sunglasses off, she cast temporary Notice-Me-Not wards around the area. "There. Now you can continue your snipping, _children_."

"As I was saying then," the nagging Death Eater spoke up, "you should know better than this, my lord! You always talked about the reign of pure-bloods, that Muggles, Mudbloods and half-blood are lower than dirt and here you are _fraternizing_ with them!"

Lord Voldemort stood in all of his horrific glory. "Do you dare to question me, lowly minions? You have foiled my plans for the last time! I was on the brink of destroying Potter; had you not shown up, Dumbledore's arrival would have meant that the contest was thrown in my favor!"

The masked men looked properly ashamed of themselves and scuffed at the grass. Harry, however, was not having any such luck.

"Mr. Potter, what has gotten into you, carrying on in such a manner?' McGonagall scolded. "You have had nearly seven years -- _seven years_ -- of magical education! Why must you find the most difficult and irrational solutions to everything?" She paused as she saw Padfoot trying to hide behind Harry.

"Mr. Black!" The witch screeched, nearing the boiling point. "Are you aiding in this madness? No," she shook her finger at the dog, "don't even try to defend yourself; of course you're part of this!"

Harry looked past McGonagall and the rest of the Hogwarts herd to see Luna walking up, nodding her head at his unasked question.

Without further ado, Harry turned around and Stunned Voldemort without so much as a by-your-leave, kicking the snake-like wizard for good measure.

"Ha!" Harry said as everyone fell silent at that unexpected move. "I win."

He whipped his wand out once more and incapacitated all the Death Eaters, turning them pink and adding bunny ears in the process.

"There are a bunch of Death Eaters still at the Riddle Mansion," Harry mentioned, not seeming to think this statement very important.

The three professors gaped at him, while Luna whispered a message to the four students.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Snape spluttered in shock, and Harry smirked at him.

"That was a Stunning spell, about ten Concussion Hexes, and the same number of Glamour and Transfiguration spells. Any questions?"

Snape growled back, but Harry ignored him. He Transfigured the Stunned wizard in front of him into a hot-dog, and tossed it onto Leo's cart. "In about five minutes, the 'Dark Lord' will be defeated." He turned to look at the three Professors once more. "I trust you can handle the rest of them?"

They nodded silently, still looking on in shock. "Good," Harry responded. "but leave Wormtail in one piece."

With that last instruction, Harry walked off to join Luna, Neville, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, who were all chattering excitedly.

"Did everything go according to plan?" Harry asked confidently.

"Not everything," Luna responded, "but well enough."

"Oh, good, and the Slytherin entrance?"

"Cursed, hexed, and bespelled," Ginny said affirmatively.

"Skeeter?"

Hermione smirked. "The letters flying towards her as we speak. She'll be on our side, no doubt about it."

"Malfoy?"

"He'll see things our way," Ron answered, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "Sooner or later."

"Neville, did you call the Ministry?"

"No," the boy answered, beginning to look guilty. "Was I supposed to?"

"No," Harry said with a grin. "Just making sure they have no idea."

He got a solid smack on the head for that one.

Padfoot gave a wuffle of amusement, and they all stepped through the Floo, back to Hogwarts. Where they planned to spend their last months at Hogwarts causing utter destruction and chaos, using spells from Dumbledore's own collection.

**Psychoanalysis Pending**


	2. Run Away!

_**What Do You Mean by 'Defeat'?**_

Disclaimer: Shivers at the thought of the soon-to-be-released 7th book and reminders of the 6th book. You think I'd really want to claim ownership of that? (Shivers of ick!)

o-o-o--oo--o-o-o

Harry leaned on his bed, reading one of Dumbledore's books with his head hanging over the edge of the bed. Now that Voldemort was a hot-dog, the group of six decided it was high time to begin planning their careers.

Experiences had strung them together too much for them to want to separate and go different ways, so they were looking for something that let them all work together.

The only problem was that Ginny and Luna were a year younger. But none of them had any intention of waiting that long to start their plans. With four months to go until the end of the year, bringing NEWTs with it, they had plenty of time to annoy Dumbledore into letting Ginny and Luna take the tests a year early. The two had been studying since the beginning of the year, taking on both sixth and seventh year work.

No, right now the pressing problem was trying to find an occupation, be it Muggle or magical.

So far, Harry had a list of possible jobs, just like the other five did. It was rather lengthy, but he was sure that Hermione would cut it short---

"Potter!" A shriek came up the staircase and through the walls, piercing his concentration. "WHERE ARE THEY?"

Recognizing the voice with wide eyes, Harry swallowed nervously and threw the book on top of the bed's canopy, the most unlikely spot he could think of, before running down the stairs.

All the students in the Common Room had frozen at seeing their usually calm and collected Headmaster burst into Gryffindor Tower, screeching the name of the Wizarding World's savior. The old wizard's hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot, leading a few Muggleborns to quietly wonder if Dumbledore was addicted to Marijuana and had recently decided to go cold turkey.

Harry crept slowly down the stairs, looking prepared to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Yes, Headmaster?" He asked calmly, like how one would talk to a rabid animal.

"Where are they?" Dumbledore asked coldly, his hand gripping his wand, and not in a defensive grip.

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

Neville, seeing that this battle was going to get ugly, threw a magical blanket over his precious plants as protection, and, grabbing Ginny's wrist, dove under the blanket, taking her with him as well. They were instantly, and unwillingly, transported to the Starship Enterprise to wait until it was safe to go back to Hogwarts once more.

"Cut it out, you foul little maggot!" Dumbledore howled, stomping the ground with his foot. "I want my lemon drops!"

"Why would I have your lemon drops?" Harry asked, just a touch too innocently to be truthful.

Hermione looked up from her giant tome on the migration habits of Egyptian Heiroglyphic Lemurs, but, seeing the battle in front of her, slowly put the book in front of her face once more, trying to act as if she wasn't there.

Smart witch.

"You-you-argh!"

Dumbledore charged at the seventh year, and Harry, feeling like his life was in danger far more seriously than it ever was with Voldemort, squeaked and ran in the opposite direction.

Vaulting over one of the armchairs, Harry paused. The Gryffindor Common Room was a veritable maze of squashy armchairs and sofas; only one who had spent a fair amount of time in the room could navigate through, and there was no way Dumbledore could clear the chair Harry just had.

This theory was proven wrong as he saw Dumbledore leap a solid seven meters into air, eyes sparking dangerously, with Gryffindor's sword in one hand and his wand in the other.

Harry yelped in terror and bolted for the portrait, barely pushing it open before Dumbledore caught up with him. Harry turned and slammed the portrait shut on the Headmster's fingers, ignoring the howl of pain in favor of getting farther away.

He paused, wondering which direction he should go in. The Room of Requirement was far too easy, and Dumbledore had more control over the castle than Harry did, so any magical rooms were out.

The Library? No, there was only one entrance...

He could always go to the Chamber of Secrets, but Fawkes could appear there, and Harry had no doubt the bird would do it again. Hagrid would no doubt take Dumbledore's side, so the grounds were out... Ah ha!

Harry ran once more, realizing a haven that he would only go to under the most extreme of circumstances. Surely no one would expect him to go there willingly...

He slammed open the double doors without knocking, alerting the single person Harry would, hopefully, forever think of as his savior.

"Madam Pomfrey, hide me!"

oooooooo

Dumbledore charged down the staircase, following the magical trail of his prey.

"Albus!" A voice said, and he turned to see Minerva walk up to him. "Good heavens, Albus, you look like a murderous boar!"

"Quick!" He exclaimed, disregarding the Transfiguration Professor's statement. "Where is Potter?"

"I have no idea," the stately witch replied, raising in eyebrow at Albus's mad appearance. "Why... what did he do now?"

"He stole my lemon drops!"

Minerva rolled her eyes. Her employer and his addictions. "Good luck on that, Albus. Harry and his merry band of miscreants know this castle better than the Marauders did."

"That doesn't matter," Albus said with surety. "I'll find the little demon."

"I'll help," Minerva said, remembering the few pranks recently hidden in her office and classroom, the least of which was numerous cat toys that distracted her in the middle of lessons.

The two started back on the path that pointed straight to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

"And why, Mr. Potter, do you need hiding?" Madam Pomfrey looked on sternly at the one wizard who had caused more trouble than the Weasley twins ever had in such a short amount of time.

"Dumbledore is hunting me!" Harry gasped, still trying to catch his breath. "He's mad, I tell you, mad!"

"I have no doubt," Poppy muttered, "that you somehow assisted in that. Fine, Mr. Potter, let me see what I can do for you."

Harry sighed in relief. He had claimed sanctuary here, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Despite his confidence, he squeaked in mortal terror as the Hospital Wing doors burst open, Albus finding an accomplice in Minerva McGonagall.

"What is the meaning of this?" Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over to the door, wand in hand. "Headmaster, Minerva, I'm ashamed! What do you mean by bursting into my Hospital like that?"

"Him!" Dumbledore growled, pointing at Harry. "He took my Lemon Drops!"

"And pranked my office and classroom!" Minerva added.

"What is this?" A voice squeaked from outside the Hospital Wing, and they all turned to see Professor Flitwick watch the scene with interest. "Oh, are we exacting vengeance on Mr. Potter?"

The normally friendly professor grinned evilly at the nods he received. "Good. I need revenge for that hex on my desk a week ago!"

"Hey!" Harry protested. "That was Ron, not me!"

"Eh, technicalities," Flitwick said, waving the small correction away. "You know about it, so you're guilty by association."

Harry gulped. He was toast.

"Wait a second," Poppy said slowly, narrowing her eyes and glaring at Harry. "Were you behind those water balloons two days ago?"

"No!" Harry protested. "That one was Hermione!"

"Miss Granger... right..." Madam Pomfrey said slowly and disbelievingly. She stepped out of the three rabid professors' path. "Get him."

Harry, who had slipped his wand into his hand during this conversation, Vanished the glass on the window and leaped out of the Hospital Wing.

oooooo

"Wow."

Ginny stared in wonder at the world around her. There was a nearby panel filled with blinking lights and Technicolor gadgets. Neville, who had tripped during their transportation, was laying on a floor covered with giant white dots, and, looking up, she saw that they matched with similarly-sized white dots on the ceiling.

"Where are we?" She asked Neville, but was answered by someone else.

"You're on Starship Enterprise, missie," came a voice with an Irish accent, and she spun around, Neville jumping up with his wand outstretched. They saw someone in an odd-looking uniform standing beside the metallic panel, holding some kind of tool and looking at them with a bit of curiosity.

"Can I ask what you're here for?" He asked, putting down his tool.

"We, er, are here---" Ginny didn't know quite what to say.

"That is to say we, um..." Neville couldn't really think of anything either.

"We're here to see your leader!" Ginny exclaimed, and was promptly elbowed for her cliche remark.

"What was that for?" She muttered, elbowing Neville back as the man went over and clicked something on the wall.

"Two to see you, Captain."

There was a buzzing before he got a reply, as Neville and Ginny watched his curious actions with interest.

"Okay, Scottie. Bring them ... to the ... bridge."

Ginny stepped forward to better see this odd device, but was yanked back by Neville who now pointed his wand at the talking box.

"You're keeping someone captive in a box!" Neville cried in outrage, and this 'Scottie' turned around in surprise.

"No, laddie, just talkin' to the captain..." He broke off uncertainly at their confused glances.

"Oh!" Ginny said in realization. "It's like that odd walking man Hermione is always talking about! You know, like what Harry took for the chess game!"

"So this is some Muggle place, then," Neville concluded. "But how did we get here?"

"You got here through what you're standing on," Scottie said unhelpfully, pointing at the white circles. "But I'm supposed to take you to the bridge now, if you're here to see the Captain,"

Ginny and Neville mutely followed after him, staring in undisguised awe at the silent, handle-less doors and smooth metal passages.

Soon, though, they were completely lost as all the hallways began to blend together.

"Merlin, this is worse than Hogwarts!" Ginny exclaimed as she saw yet another straight corridor go off the main passage.

"Shh," Neville cautioned. "We don't know if it's safe to mention Hogwarts, even though everyone seems to be Muggles. Anyway, what happened to Dumbledore? He acted like he was insane!"

Ginny giggled. "Lemon drop shortage. It's been five days now without any. He's probably gone completely nuts."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Poor Harry, being chased by an angry and all-powerful wizard." He paused, realizing his make-shift greenhouse didn't transport with them. "Though if they squash any of my plants, there'll be Hell to pay!"

Ginny sniffed theatrically. "Sometimes I feel like I'm second in your heart, Neville."

"Second?" Neville asked. "No, no, maybe third... Ouch!"

He winced as Ginny jabbed her pointy elbow into his stomach.

"First!" Neville wheezed, waving his hands in sincerity. "First!"

"That's much better, Neville, and don't you forget it!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a final _whoosh!_ of doors, and they saw a Magnificently Nerdy Computer Land sprawled in front them.

"Hermione would love it here," they whispered in awe together. People in similar uniforms to Scottie's walked around, pulling metallic levers, typing on lights, and playing expertly with various gizmos. Ginny reached for a temptingly large red button, but her hand was immediately grasped in an iron grip.

"I would not touch that if I were you; the result would be immediate and most probably catastrophic."

Ginny's hand was released, and she whirled around to see a tall man watching her impassively. She giggled at his emotionless expression, but didn't know quite what he was based on his pointy ears.

"Is there something amusing?" He asked in a mildly interested tone.

"No," she said, chastised, mentally thinking that this person was just like Snape except without the vitriol. "What is it?"

"A button, Miss...?"

"Oh!" She started. "My name is Ginny Weasley."

She held her hand out in greeting, and the elf-like man in front of her raised one eyebrow before shaking her hand.

"My name is Spock," he said, before dropping her hand. "And you are not of the Klingon Ambassadorial party."

"Erm, no, Neville's blanket made us come here, as a matter of fact... where did he go?"

o----o

Neville, having not payed attention to Ginny's interest in the red button, turned to greet the captain.

"I'm Captain Kirk," a man walked up to him in greeting. "This is the Starship Enterprise. I wasn't aware... of any incoming vessels. May I ask what your... business is here?"

"My name is Neville Longbottom, and where exactly is, er, 'here'? And what is the black screen with all the dots for?"

o----o

She looked around to see Neville running towards her, looking crazed.

"Ginny, these people are insane! They think that we're in space, Quadrant 4 something or other, and this is some kind of UFO like Hermione is always talking about!"

"I assure you that we are not insane, and we are indeed in space, though in a starship rather than a UFO."

Neville looked at Spock in horror. "Good gravy, not another Snape!"

"A Snape? I'm quite sure that I'm not," he said impassively, but Neville ignored him and turned to Ginny.

"We have to get out of here before they try to mummify us!"

"It's your bloody blanket that sent us here!" Ginny exclaimed. "So how are we supposed to get back? Do you think that we can contact anyone from here?"

"Do you still have your DA galleon? If we can fiddle with those charms--- Squeak!"

The two experienced in odd feeling, like being stretched into themselves and up at the same time, before they were once more in the Gryffindor Common room. Hermione was holding up the blanket with an expression that was a cross of sympathy and annoyance.

"Harry and Dumbledore left," she said, shaking her head at what Harry had done. "I'm fairly sure it's safe to come out now."

"Hermione, the most amazing thing happened!" Ginny climbed out from under the blanket just in case it tried to transport her and Neville again. "We went to Quadrant something or other, with all these technological gizmos, and someone named Spock with pointy ears!"

"Sure you did," Hermione said dismissively, glancing worriedly at her at the same time. "And Captain Kirk thought you were Klingons, did he?"

"Well, no, it was that Spock fellow that said that..." Neville said, rushing to the defense of Ginny.

"Right, of course," the bushy-haired girl muttered, this time watching the blanket as if it might attack. "Why don't you two see where Harry got to?"

As soon as they turned away, still commenting about the UFO they found, Hermione made a magical copy of Neville's blanket and stuffed the original into her backpack.

Wouldn't that Star Trek fan club she was secretary of just love to see this!

o----o

As the wind whipped past him and his eyes watered, Harry realized that leaping out a window was probably not the best idea. As fun as vertical free-fall was, he would rather not---WHOMPFT!

"Having fun there, Harry?" Ron asked, holding on to him by the neck of his robes. "Good thing Hermione's so smart. I never would have imagined you leaping out a window..."

He handed Harry his Firebolt, as Ron had rescued Harry from a splattery end alight his own broom. Grateful for the intervention, Harry swung out of Ron's grasp and up onto the Firebolt.

"Hermione sent you after me, did she?" He asked, making faces at the four currently glaring daggers at him out the Hospital window.

"Yeah, she said something about a mad and raging Dumbledore. So nice to know everything has returned... to... normal..."

Harry turned around, wondering what was wrong. "Bloody Hell!"

The two had been flying towards the Quidditch Pitch when, like an angry swarm of bees who had finally caught up with a greedy bear, a stampede of green-and-silver-uniform-wearing Slytherins swooped over the stands straight for the two of them, buzzing angrily and shouting battle cries.

"AAAAHH!" Ron and Harry screamed as one, abruptly turning around and flying for all they were worth in the opposite direction.

Strangely enough, the four in the window weren't glaring anymore. In fact, they looked rather pleased with themselves.

Ron ducked as a particularly vicious hex singed his hair. "What was that?"

Harry turned around. "That would be Malfoy."

"Oh," Ron said, immediately sitting up straight again. "Nothing to worry about in that case."

This time he flinched as a broad orange light streamed by, millimeters away from his neck.

"And that?" Ron asked, his voice high-pitched and his eyes wide.

"That would be Snape."

"We're screwe---" Ron didn't even have time to get out that singularly prophet-like prediction before a duet of air-sizzling energy hit their brooms, catching the tail-ends on fire.

Even as they were plummeting to the ground, Harry and Ron pulled out their wands and began hexing every Slytherin within viewing distance, all of them spells divulged by Fred and George and, by consequence, not likely to be short or pleasant.

Though both Gryffindors would later claim it was because of their brilliant tidal wave of spells, it certainly wasn't true. All they knew was that the blond ferret in the front was pointing in the sky behind Ron, and soon exclamations suitable to burn ears filled the air. Then as one, the swarm of Slytherins on brooms fled back to the castle, screaming about mental Gryffindors and the company they kept.

Almost too afraid to look around, the two gulped as they were caught out of the air and placed on feathery backs.

Deciding to use their Gryffindor foolishness, they turned to see a veritable army of thestrals, hippogriffs, and wild flying cars, all coming to their rescue.

o----o

_Hermione's Enumeration of Possible Occupations_

_1)Spell-Crafting – I could do research, Neville can research separate potion possibilities, Ginny and Ron could do publicity and ideas, Harry supplies power, and Luna makes extraneous comments—I mean Luna helps with ideas and research_

_2)Becoming Ministry Officials – Harry as Minister, Ron as Head of Aurors, Ginny as Head of Games and Sports, Neville as Associate of St. Mungos, Luna as editor of the Prophet, and I as Umbridge-torturer; I mean court justice_

_3)Official Criminals – Harry guilty of turning leaders of power into hot dogs, Ginny as arsonist, Ron as forger, Neville guilty by association, I kidnapping all house-elves and setting them free, and Luna as disturber of the peace_

_4)Professors of Hogwarts (in one fell swoop—will later look into potions) – Harry as DADA, Ginny as Potions, Ron as Flying Instructor, Neville as Herbology Teacher, Luna as Divination Teacher (no need for that, anyway) and I as Arithmancy teacher; McGonagall and Flitwick can stay_

_5)Professional Blackmailers – I as dirt-digger, Harry and Ginny as intimidation, Ron deciding who is more important to control (strategy-wise), Neville as publicity so we don't look that frightening to the public, Luna as distraction so as to get incriminating evidence_

_It appears I need to meditate then get back to this when not in such a horrible mood, or, when Dobby gives me my knitting needles back._

**--o--**

**Ron – Job List**

**Quidditch**

_Ronald Bilius Weasley, your future requires more thought than just one word. Not to mention the fact that WE ALL WANT TO WORK TOGETHER! So use you head and put more thought into the matter!_

**Quidditch – Chudley Cannons**

**--o--**

A/N: I don't really know where I'm going with this---I think it's just one of those pieces to work on when I'm too ADD to work on anything else! So give me a plot please. Or a straitjacket.

Whichever.

Miss Whiskers


End file.
